XX.

We leave this royal couple to repose: A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep, Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes: Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep As any man's clay mixture undergoes. Our least of sorrows are such as we _weep_; 'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.[gm]